The Enemy (Soul Tempest)
by Crescent Moon -Jessica151294
Summary: Kurtis finally reaches Prague, ready to complete his mission of duty and revenge once and for all. However, there are inner battles to be fought first…


**Hello, everyone! This is a tribute to Kurtis for his birthday, since he still remains my favourite character! :) It comes with one-day delay, sorry for that! So happy birthday, Kurtis! :D**

**_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Kurtis Trent or any of the characters mentioned. All characters belong to Eidos and Square Enix. This was created for entertainment purposes only.**

**_Also,_ I'd like to thank KurtisTrentsFanGirl for letting me use the title, 'Son of Light', as she invented it!**

**~ This is dedicated to KurtisTrentsFanGirl, with love and appreciation! Thanks for everything, girl! :) ~**

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**The Enemy (Soul Tempest)**

The gun was loaded. The ancient blades sharp. The hatred was there to accompany, to be the muse for the flawless bloodshed. The time had come. He had finally reached the end. At that time, Kurtis Trent wondered why he was doing this. He was fighting for a name he had abandoned long ago. He was avenging a father's death he had rejected countless times in his mind. Was it because of pride? Or ignorance? He had doubted for sure from the beginning that the sense of duty had returned to him. Even if he won in the end, he had no one to tell. He had let everyone around him pass away, they were the price, the sacrifice for his choices and wishes. For every single thing that went wrong, he had no one to blame but himself. And even for the slightest triumph, he said it was mostly luck.

He picked up his Chirugai to walk away, but after glancing at the wall, he stopped on his tracks. For he had seen him, the Enemy. The battle had just begun.

he had many enemies, but he had never decided which one threatened him the most. Until that very day; the mirror. He couldn't believe how much he had changed. Was it the years of endless war or the depths of his suffocating darkness?

Years, they had caught up with him. So had Fate. He's been avoiding to look into the mirror for so long. Whenever he did, it was as if the strict face of his father was staring back at him. And he hated his father.

Baptised in the fire of War, he was given the name Kurtis Heissturm, the Chosen One as the ancient scripts would say. From the moment he breathed into the light of Gaia, he had been destined for one thing; the Shadow War. A child without Innocence. A man without an honest Heart. A soul without Redemption. That was his fate. Once the threads are weaved, there's no turning back. Or so his father believed. The Son of Light had attempted to cut those threads. And had failed.

As a warrior in the Foreign Legion, his path held only bloodshed. For him rose only the sun of Hatred and a moon of Revenge would ascend at night to praise and crown his darkness. He was dangerous. And he was real. The blood running in his veins had offered him the weapons. Power to cause great destruction. What enraged his Order was that he didn't use it the way they wished him to. He was untouchable, uncontrollable. But he had a heart and that had given him dreams. His father though, had hated him for it.

He could always walk away from the ones that caused him pain, but he could never stay away from him own blood. He could hear whispers, echoes. A heritage of the dark flowing inside of him, never letting him seek cure for his demons inside silence. The Legacy. The Nephilim. The Light of Truth. His father Konstantin, along with his voice, his demands, his wishes… his son. Kurtis hated them all. Especially, his father's son.

Was the Son of Light supposed to dwell in eternal darkness? Life was full of ironies. Upon the demon hunting and the money that the next bloodshed delivered, it was as if his eyes were given to him to stare only at the darkness that prevented him from seeing what was actually before him; humans, the sunlight, life…

Until the rise of Destiny arrived, bringing his Retribution, his Soul Tempest. A father alone and abandoned had lost his life. A mother weeping and longing was at the mercy of the cruel Fates, their plans for her unknown. A man he had trusted walked the paths of betrayal, paths that were serving Kurtis's Damnation.

All the actions that followed were led by pure hate, revenge and the voices that told him he was lost. All the faces he met afterwards were nothing but fragile shadows in his mind, servants of weakness, which he detested.

The moment came when all the whispers faded. All the countless paths he had to walk crumbled. All the walls collapsed. All once he saw him. The Black Alchemist. Now the purpose was only one; to cease his existence. For _he_ was the great Enemy, _he_ had made him suffer. Because of _him_ his father had tried to train him, to make him a warrior. _He_ had hunted down the Lux Veritatis Order, with cruelty, without mercy. That's what he had always believed, until that day he saw the glass of the mirror.

It was this bitter realisation that had left his heart cold, sharp. The Enemy was not the one who had his father's blood in his hands. The Enemy was not the one that had once wings, that twisted the truth with green light and deceptive images. The Enemy was not the one that could melt the ice of his heart, the ice that kept him going for so long. The Enemy was within. He was staring back at him. He was there and he was invulnerable. His ocean-blue eyes held a look of cruelty and emptiness. The scar was there, staining his face, reminding him of mistakes and pain. His soul was at hazard as long as he stared in the mirror.

But… The mirror was wrong, for it did not reflect what was actually there. He had to fix it. He had to kill this delusion. He had to find his real reflection. And so he did…

…

The first sharp piece touched the ground. Pieces. Pieces and blood. Now he could see who he really was. He observed the broken mirror with bitterness. Would this feeling ever change? This emptiness that empowered him when he fought, but when alone, sleepless and in the dark, it only shattered him more and more every night, would it ever fade away? The ice in his heart, was it the path of peace or the path of destruction?

Kurtis knelt and took a sharp piece of the broken mirror in his hand. He saw his eye in it. His hand was bleeding, but it would stop soon. Legacy was the name of the cure. After deciding to blur his thoughts, silence his memories and follow the Hate, Kurtis Trent looked upwards with a look of cruelty, while holding the piece of glass even tighter. He stood up.

The next battle of the Shadow War had just begun…


End file.
